


DAVID

by Swifters



Series: David [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Danny, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifters/pseuds/Swifters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murderous sociopathic control freak decides to play with 5-0 to alleviate his boredom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lion's Den

David stood, motionless, patient. He watched the blond man’s forehead with fascination. He tilted his head to one side, watched as a single bead of sweat tracked slowly from the brow, rolling down the swollen cheek. Watched it pass over the dried blood, taking on a tinted hue. Watched as it reached the point of the man’s lax jaw. For a long moment it hung there, defying gravity, until it could resist the inexorable pull no longer and fell. His gaze followed it, mesmerised, committing every detail to memory. 

The drip splashed on the white tile floor, finally lost to sight as it mingled with the blood and fluids pooled below the suspended man. The drain was all but blocked with matter from those who had gone before the current prize but the reds and yellows still spiralled slowly towards the dark grate, the pattern contributing to the perfection of the event unfolding in the room.

David closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, analysing the cacophony of smells in the room. Blood dominated. An iron-rich tang that drew the primal animal inside him to the fore. It growled in his mind, made him salivate. He smiled, reminding it who was in control. He inhaled again. Urine and vomit- sour, clinging smells. Inevitable and informative. He knew what the man had had for his last meal. Knew he was in the habit of drinking too much coffee and not enough water. But the sweetest smell, the sweetest smell by far was fear. It had been some time coming. David had had to work for the scent he craved, the one that hit him like an endorphin. Intense, stimulating. Made him feel alive.

David opened his eyes and took a moment to observe his captive. The blond man had fought him every step of the way, angry and stubborn. He was always restrained, only shifted from one position to another when unconscious, but he had tried so hard, so many times, to barter for his freedom using an endless flow of words as his leverage. He had tried to engage David, not yet understanding he was not speaking to an equal but one far superior to himself, one for whom emotion is irrelevant. The man had rattled through the avenues open to him- aggression, fury, empathy, promises, threats, pleading. He had even laughed- a strange, hysterical giggle. Out of place. Intriguing. 

David appreciated his victim’s efforts, his strength and resilience- it made the fear even more delicious when it finally dominated, when the pain and exhaustion finally broke through the bravado, unleashing the intoxicating aroma he craved. 

He inhaled again now. The sweet scent was thick in the air again. He knew what that meant. His trophy was awake, feigning continued unconsciousness. David smiled again, understanding in a way. He stretched, then walked slowly around his naked prize, observing. He whistled a soft tune as he walked. The man hung limply by his wrists, suspended clear of the floor by a handful of inches. David noted the overextended arms, the bulging muscles on the shoulders and back. The injuries that told the story of the only part of the man’s life that mattered- the hours he had spent with the entity called David. A walking God. An intelligence beyond comprehension. But so bored. David craved adrenaline, but there was so little in life to raise his steady heartbeat, so little to challenge him. 

David suddenly froze, simultaneously ceasing his off-key melody. He was rewarded with the sound of a sharply drawn breath. His prize knew the time for his next lesson had come. Still the pretence continued. The newly shorn blond head hung forwards, eyes shut and jaw slack. David smiled in anticipation, taking a moment to decide on his next move. He watched as his prize awaited the inevitable. He saw the perspiration run, knew the man’s heart-rate was increasing, his adrenaline pumping, helplessly caught up in the agony of not knowing what was about to come. More of the same? A punch, a cut, a burn, a shock, rape? Or something new and unexpected? His prize was weakened, but still stubborn, still hiding from the inevitable. By the time David was satisfied, the man would seek out his gaze hungrily and beg for the sweet release of death, accept it gratefully.

He stepped forward, close enough to bring him face-to-face with the blond man. He raised his scalpel and slowly, deliberately, sliced a deep cut across the cheek, transecting the track the bead of sweat had taken. The man flinched, eyes flashing open in shock. David stepped away, laying his scalpel neatly on his work table, then turned and walked back to his prize. He cupped the man’s face gently in his hands and smiled sweetly, smelling the fear, the fresh blood, peering into the ice blue eyes to read every last flicker of emotion. Then he leant forwards and kissed the new cut, before sealing his lips over it. He sucked, drinking deeply.


	2. The break.

5 days. 5 days. 

Steve, sitting at the desk in his office, let his exhausted head sink on to his arms. 5 days of frenzied activity since that fateful morning when Danny hadn’t come to pick him up for work. 5 days of kicking in doors, having possible crime scenes analysed and re-analysed. 5 days of threatening, cajoling, bribing every lowlife he could lay his hands on. And 5 days of finding appropriate words to spout off to Grace, to Rachel, to Amber, to Danny’s parents.

And yet there had been no ransom demands, no gloating bad guys, no whispers in the underworld, no New Jersey perps stalking the streets of O’ahu in search of revenge. Danny had just disappeared. His car was outside his house and his house was locked up securely. His phone, wallet, gun and badge were gone too, the phone off and non-functioning. Untraceable. There had been no activity on his credit cards. There were no signs of a struggle, no forensic traces to suggest an unexpected presence in Danny’s vicinity, nothing. It was as though he’d left in the dead of night and walked off a cliff. Steve had overhead a uni suggesting just that and had barely restrained himself from tearing the man a new one. Barely. No way would Danny do that to Grace. To him. 

But an ugly sliver of doubt niggled. Sure, Danny would never do that if he was in his right mind. But Steve had seriously underestimated the impact the Reyes incident had had on his friend. Had thought the grief and guilt was just over Matty, not the death of the bastard who’d killed him too. Sure, he had offered Danny support every step of the way. Some of it had even been accepted. But he hadn’t pushed, he should have pushed. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, giving his friend space when he wanted it. And he had failed to see the gnawing guilt. He had missed that. Was he missing something else too..? Could Danny have had a breakdown?

A chain of poisonous thoughts joined the pity party in his tired mind. He had been a bad friend. Controlling. Not really listening. Reacting too easily to Danny’s habitual bluster, which was one of the things that had drawn him to the man to start off with, for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t told Danny how much he meant to him since the day they had been trapped under that building, even with the clusterfuck of crap that had happened to them since. He had never told him he was his best friend, every bit as important to him as Freddie ever was. Why? What the hell was his problem? 

Steve raised his head, looking through the glass walls of his office at his team. They were standing around the tech table, doggedly going through CCTV feeds yet again, desperate to find something, anything, that might give them somewhere to start. 

Steve watched them, knowing they were feeling the glaring absence too, no doubt battling their own feelings of guilt, doubt and fear. He wished he could think of something to say to ease their burden, to give everyone a much needed boost, but he’d used up his repertoire of positive pep-talks. After the last one, Lou had placed a firm hand on his shoulder and held his gaze. Nothing was said, but his meaning was clear- It’s OK. Concentrate on keeping yourself together. We all know you’re feeling this the most. 

No, he told himself firmly, Danny would never kill himself. He had been taken and therefore he could be retrieved. There was no evidence he was dead therefore they would continue to assume he was alive. End of story. But why him? Why Danny? What could Steve have done to prevent it? What was happening to Danny right at that moment, right then while Steve sat in his comfortable chair in his comfortable office with a cup of coffee in front of him made just the way he liked it. Was he suffering? Was he scared?

Steve drew a shaky breath and suppressed the thoughts again. Boxed them in, tucked them away. It was getting harder to pen them in each time they broke out. He picked up his coffee and downed it.

An automated tone sounded from the tech table. There was a moment of silence, then “Boss. BOSS!” Kono’s voice, excited, a slight waver to it, sliced into Steve’s consciousness. He was on his feet, sprinting to her side before she had a chance to turn his way. She was leaning over the tech table, tapping through menus, Chin and Lou standing tensely at her side.

“Kono! What’ve you got?” 

“It’s Danny’s phone. It’s been reactivated.”

“Where? Where is it?!”

“Yours. It’s at your house.”


	3. Breadcrumbs and bed baths

Steve was quivering, adrenaline pumping, trigger-finger itching, as he threw his Silverado into a screeching stop a short distance from his house. He launched himself out of the vehicle and jogged towards home. Knowing his team had arrived with him and would be at his heels, he threw hand signals in their general direction, silent instructions to surround the property. He drew his weapon.

He absorbed the scene instantly as the building came in sight, not slowing his pace for a moment. No strange vehicle in the vicinity, front door undamaged, no movement apparent within.

There was something on the doorstep. A shoe box. He logged its presence and stepped over it, pressing himself against the wall of his house, reaching out cautiously and turning the door handle. Locked. He unlocked the door, took a breath and stepped inside. He scanned the room. Everything was as he left it. He glanced at his alarm system. Still set. No unauthorised accesses detected. He punched in the keycode. Chin was behind him now and the pair cleared the house on autopilot. Nothing. Kono appeared with Lou. “All clear outside, boss.”

Glances were exchanged between the team members- confusion, frustration. Steve huffed out a breath and returned to the parcel, crouching down beside it.

“You know we outta get that checked before you open it, right?” Lou tried half-heartedly. 

Steve ignored him, lifting the lid. He gazed at the contents. 

Danny’s phone and Danny’s badge. That was it. No note. No list of demands. Just Danny’s phone and Danny’s badge. Steve stared at them, transfixed.

Kono leant past him, latex gloves already on. She picked up the phone, switching it on and flicking through the apps. “No messages. No photos.” She hesitated. They were all looking at Steve, waiting for his reaction. None was forthcoming. “I’ll get these over to crime lab, right boss?” she suggested.

“Yeah.” His voice was too weak, he realised. He stood up, cleared his throat and spoke again with a more appropriate level of authority. “Yeah. Thanks Kono. OK, we know for sure now. We know someone has him. Chin, contact HPD. I need a full surveillance package on my house. Whoever has Danny knows where I live. He may surface again. Lou. You and I will canvas the neighbours, see if anyone saw the bastard. Let’s go.” 

Steve hung back for an instant, watching the team stride purposefully from his garden. He schooled his features appropriately, ensuring the pain of his disappointment, of knowing Danny had not magically appeared here in person spouting off some ridiculous excuse or another for his absence, was well concealed. He strode after them.  
……………………………………………………….

Reality swirled around him in a blur of perpetual motion. Fighting his way through the pain-filled haze, Danny groaned as awareness and sensation slowly meshed into some sort of recognisable form. He realised he was lying on his side on the cold tile floor of his prison. His hands were bound behind his back, his legs bent up behind him, ankles tied together and attached to his wrists. Hogtied. Helpless. He felt himself relax. He knew this position, knew what it meant. Knew what would come after, too, but he could blank that bit out just now, live in the moment.

He opened his eyes and saw his persecutor kneeling in front of him, ever patient. Danny felt a hand beneath his head, raising it gently, while a water bottle was brought to his lips. He gulped, gagging a little, but managing to keep the liquid down. Bread followed the water, small chunks broken off and rolled into balls before being slid between his willing lips. 

Danny glanced shyly up at the man’s face while he was fed. It was a study of concentration, his involvement in his task absolute. His eyes, Danny realised with a start, were the same deep, stormy color as Steve’s. But cold and unreadable. Maybe that was how Steve seemed to some people.

Meal over, Danny’s head was carefully lowered back onto the floor. He closed his eyes again. He knew what was coming and didn’t flinch as the hand moved towards his cheek. The man shaved him with practiced ease, foam brushed on then carefully, ever so carefully, swept off by the blade. 

Danny’s mind wandered to the first time he had experienced this surreal ritual. It could have been yesterday. It could have been a month ago. Time had lost all meaning. Of course the man had clipped his hair then too, making him scream with fury. Then, the very feel of the bastard’s hands on him had made him feel sick, made his skin crawl. When the cutthroat razor had been produced he had been convinced, for some reason, the man was about to cut his nuts off and had yelled even more. He so didn’t want his team to find him with his nuts cut off. It hadn’t happened, not yet anyway. He could at least be grateful for small mercies. 

But now he co-operated, let his face be moved around as required, helped where he could. This routine had become an oasis, a gentle interaction that made him wonder about the man, wonder if someone had done bad things to him too, wonder if there was some good inside him somewhere. There were fleeting moments when Danny almost forgot to hate him. He wished he knew his name. Wished he would speak.

The man was washing his body now with a sponge and warm water. His touch was tender, mindful of his many injuries. Danny let his mind drift, let himself enjoy the lavish care. He felt the soft towel patting him dry, then hands began to stroke him. His hair, his cheek, his arms. The caresses were innocent, with what might pass for affectionate. Big, strong, kind hands, hands like Steve’s. He missed Steve. His team. Gracie most of all. He didn’t want her to know any of this was happening to him. 

The thought of Gracie finding out brought a lump to his throat. Before he could clamp down on his emotions, tears had gathered, one spilling from his eye and running down across his nose. The hands froze. Danny stiffened, instantly realising his mistake. He felt the man move closer, felt hot breath on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find the man lying on the floor beside him, face inches from his own. The face moved closer still and Danny squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the end of a tongue, hot and wet, press against his cheek, before tracing the track of the tear back towards his eye. The face moved away again. Danny let out a shaky breath, daring to crack open his eyes again.

His stomach dropped. The dead eyes had darkened and were now filled with lust.

The man surged up from the floor and pushed him roughly onto his stomach, slashing through the ropes on his ankles with the razorblade. Danny screwed his eyes shut again, his breath coming in short, panicky gasps, as the man climbed on top of him, weight crushing his hands. He tried to resist, to wriggle away, but he was weak and he was pinned. Strong legs pushed his own apart. He ground his face into the tiles, helpless to do anything but try to find the strength to retreat again into the depths of his own mind as the familiar pain of the rhythmic assault began.


	4. Puppetmaster

Lou glanced through the glass wall of Steve’s office. Their leader was on the phone to some poor bastard at HPD, shouting animatedly. Lou turned and exchanged glances with Chin and Kono. This was nothing short of a fucking nightmare. 

The door to door enquiries had proved fruitless, but Charlie Fong had pulled a single print off the items left at Steve’s house. A single, clear thumbprint on the back of Danny’s badge, bang in the center. It was almost as though it had been deliberately applied.

They had got a hit on the print right away. The team had stood together around the tech table when Kono had opened the relevant file. They had their first look at the face of the man responsible for their current hell. White male, shaved head, green eyes, lean face with pointed features. Pretty unremarkable. Chin had started to read out the accompanying text out loud. 

“David Abrahams, 42 years old, born in Los Angeles, 6ft 2, lean build. Escaped from prison 8 months ago where he was serving consecutive life sentences for….oh no…” His voice had tailed off. 

The team had read together in silence, horror mounting. 35 known kills across the US, no real pattern in his selection of victims or the means of their dispatch. His repertoire was extensive and brutal. Torture, rape and cannibalism featured prominently. Bodies were later found dumped unceremoniously in a variety of locations. The man was not a psychopath- he was a murderous sociopath. And, apparently, a genius. Chin flicked through the crime scene photos, the autopsy reports, the psychiatric evaluations.

“Oh my God. A serial killer? A serial killer’s got him?” Steve’s tight voice had broken the shocked silence. Then his pale face had flushed in fury. “I’m gonna kill the bastard. Find him. Find him NOW.” 

And, as it turned out, Abrahams proved bizarrely easy to find. He was supposedly a genius, yet he appeared to have gone to no effort whatsoever to cover his tracks.

Within the hour, they had identified the flight he had come to the island on six months earlier, located his rental house and the car he had purchased. They traced the vehicle’s recent movements on the island’s network of CCTV cameras and identified an isolated warehouse near the North Shore as a potential place of interest, a place the car had been in the vicinity of many times over the last two weeks. Live satellite feed had confirmed the current presence of a vehicle the same type and color as Abrahams’ parked outside the warehouse.

Now they were gearing up, ready to hit the warehouse. HPD and SWAT were mobilising teams to back them up and to raid Abrahams’ home address in a synchronised hit. It wasn’t happening fast enough for Steve, for any of them. 

Finally Steve came thundering through. “They're ready. We good? We ready to go?”

They all nodded, turning for the door.  
……………………………………………………………………  
Steve could feel Grover’s eyes on him as he drove, leading the convoy towards Abrahams’ warehouse at customary breakneck speed.

“You know this man could be playing us. If he left that print on purpose, he’s got to know we’ll be coming for him. He’s got to be planning something. You know that, right?” Lou’s tone was gentle.

Steve didn’t reply. His mouth was set in a narrow line, his expression steely and determined. He was well aware of the situation. There was no history of Abrahams making any attempts to interact with his victims’ friends and family. The shoebox and the print were unprecedented, a total break from his MO. It was almost as if he was trying to draw them in.

They were in uncharted territory and had to be prepared for anything. But what was Steve meant to do? Surveille the building for days to work out what was going on? They couldn’t afford the time. Danny didn’t have the time. If Danny was even still alive. He’d been at the mercy of a cold-blooded killer for 5 days. The odds weren’t good. That knowledge made Steve’s stomach twist. 

They were doing it by the book. Danny would be proud, Steve thought grimly. They had ample back-up. They were approaching in silence, without sirens blaring to alert their target. They were going to surround the premises properly before going in so there could be no escape for Abrahams whatever went down inside. They had accessed schematics for the warehouse and knew the layout- all one floor, a large open space with an office area beyond. They were as prepared as they could possibly be.

Steve conjured an image of Abrahams in his mind. He finally had someone to blame, someone to track, someone to chase, someone to shoot. He gritted his teeth, ravenous for a chance to lay hands on the man. And if Danny was already dead, so was Abrahams.   
………………………………………………………………….  
The warehouse was a large, windowless, corrugated metal structure, red paint peeling from neglect. Weeds sprouted between the cracks in the concrete of the parking lot. The main large access door was sealed with a rusted padlock, apparently unused for some time. The metal handle of the side door shone in the sun. Abrahams’ access. His vehicle was parked by the door.

Steve watched as HPD and SWAT moved into their pre-arranged positions to cover the exterior of the property. Officers in place, the 5-0 team moved forwards, following Steve around the edge of the building, weapons drawn. The came to a stop at the small door. Chin moved on past it, positioning himself to kick it in. 

Steve raised his hand to ask him to wait, then reached for the door handle. It turned easily and the door cracked open. Steve blinked in surprise, casting a concerned glance at Chin. He pushed the door open and the four colleagues moved in silently, hoping they would have the advantage of the element of surprise. With a practiced professionalism, they moved amongst the piles of pallets and wooden crates, clearing the warehouse floor systematically, heading for the office area beyond.

As they approached the office door a soft sound of movement came from behind it. Steve raised his hand to halt everyone in their tracks. He raised his finger to his lips.

There was no mistaking the source of the subsequent noise. Danny’s muffled voice could be heard through the door, crying out in pain then launching into an angry tirade. “Get the hell away from me, you freak. I’m gonna kill you!” There was a rough edge to his voice, a desperate quality, but he was alive! They were moments from concluding this nightmare, moments from saving Danny.

Steve’s blood was up, knowing his friend was so close and that bastard was hurting him. Eyes blazing, he flattened himself against the wall beside the door and waved Chin past him to the opposite side. He held his hand up, counting down on his fingers. 3….2…..1. Chin broke the door in with one powerful kick and Steve ran in, weapon raised. And stopped dead. 

There was no one in the room, No Danny, no Abrahams.

Dominating the room was a massive TV screen connected to a sound system. And the image on the screen transfixed them instantly. Danny Williams, naked and chained against a wall, manacled arms stretched to the side as though he was being crucified. His hair was gone, clipped short. Abrahams had been busy- injuries littered his captive’s body. 

His team-mates watched in horror as Danny struggled briefly against his bonds before sagging down weakly and hanging from the chains. The right side of his face was masked with blood but they could see his gritted teeth, his expression of anger and fear. He didn’t look up at the camera, seemingly unaware of its presence.

A tall figure walked into the shot, facing away from the camera, taser in hand. He punched his hand forwards, thrusting the taser against Danny’s stomach. Over and over and over again he struck out, as Danny jerked and tried in vain to twist away.

When the man finally stood back, turning and leaving the room without uttering a word, Danny was left trembling violently and gasping as he hung limply against the wall. He choked, unable to breathe for torturous seconds, then spat up a mouthful of blood. He finally managed to draw a sobbing breath, then, wavering voice barely audible, murmured “Anytime now would be good, Steve…..please.”   
………………………………………………………………………..  
David watched the action on his laptop, smiling. He held his breath in anticipation as the four figures leading the raid on his warehouse ran in and came face to face with his carefully laid out display. 

He hit pause, focusing on each of the familiar faces in turn, drinking in their reactions to his work, reading their emotions greedily. The female officer, Kalakaua, had her hand over her mouth. He reached out and touched it, itched to move it out of the way. Grover and Kelly, jaws open, eyes wide, still shocked in that moment, trying to comprehend what they were seeing.

He fixed on Commander McGarrett’s face, suddenly mesmerised. He zoomed the image in close so the man’s face took up his whole screen. He read horror. Grief. Fury. Guilt. And fear, his beloved fear. An impossible combination, yet each plain to see on the expressive features in front of him. He touched his own face, trying to echo the expression with his own features, before giving up in frustration. He leaned forwards and stared into McGarrett’s eyes, then moved his face closer still. He pushed out his tongue and licked the computer screen, tracing McGarrett’s jawline, his mouth. 

How David wished technology could feed all of his senses. He sighed wistfully. However, as always, his control of the situation was absolute. Like little action figures, the players in his game went where he wanted, when he wanted. He would savor the scent of McGarrett’s fear in person soon enough.


	5. Game Plan

Abrahams was coming in for another attack on his defenceless victim.

“Shit man, Steve, don’t watch.” Steve felt Grover gripping his shoulder as the man’s deep voice addressed him.

But Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. He felt the nerves on the side of his nose twitch, his lips tremble a touch. His emotions were threatening to overwhelm him. He shook his head curtly, eyes never leaving Danny. “Got to watch. There might be something there, something to help find him.” 

He saw Danny’s suffering, every detail branded into his memory. He noted every injury, the bruising, the cuts- some ragged, some neat and precise. Some bleeding, some no longer. He was pretty damn sure he could see dried blood down the inside of his partner’s thighs. Knew what that meant. He saw Danny’s face- the pain, the fear.

Grover’s hand squeezed harder. “Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be you that watches it. Come on, he’s your best friend, man, you don’t need to see that. Walk away. You need to keep a clear head if we’re gonna save him.”

Steve breathed in and out a few times, hard, through his nose, then nodded once, finally turning away. He cast his eyes around the office, realising Chin and Kono had already retreated. They were standing together at the side of the room, faces anguished, hands on each other’s shoulders, whispering. Comforting. Planning. 

Steve gritted his teeth. “I want a Crime Lab team in here NOW.” He barked. “ANYTHING we can get, I want it. You guys stay, preserve the scene.” He turned and marched out of the office into the warehouse, not waiting for a response. Then he stopped, suddenly unsure where he was going. He felt his legs begin to shake, then his vision tunnelled and he found himself on his knees. “Shit. SHIT!” He punched out at a nearby crate, again and again, wood splintering, self-control spiralling.

Lou materialised beside him with Chin, both crouching down and restraining his arms gently. “Steve. C’mon man, breaking your hands ain’t gonna help Danny.” 

Steve sagged, breathing heavily. Lou grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him forwards. Steve let his forehead rest on Lou’s broad shoulder for a few long moments while he tried to get control of his breathing. He could feel Chin’s hand on his back. A couple of sobs escaped before he even realised they were there.

“Sorry” he breathed.

Lou said nothing, just patted his back, looking over at Chin helplessly. Chin closed his eyes and bowed his head, barely in control himself.  
Steve made a move to stand, murmuring “OK. OK, I’m good. Thanks.” Lou went with him, helping him up then stepping back, studying his face carefully. Of course he wasn’t OK. But none of them were. 

At that moment, Kono walked over to them from the office, her face strained, her eyes almost apologetic. “Boss?” her tone was gentle. “It’s a recording, not a live feed. There’s a computer set up behind the screen. The file is time-stamped from three days ago.”

Steve blinked, then shook his head. “Three days? This happened to him three days ago?” He ran a hand down his face, sitting down heavily on the crate behind him. “So we don’t even know if he’s still alive. Why’s Abrahams doing this? Why did he set this up?”

“He wants to torture us too, I guess.” Chin ventured. “In which case……” he gasped, turning round and looking back towards the office. “In which case he would want to see our reactions. He must be watching us. He must have cameras set up.”

Kono nodded. “And if we find the cameras. Depending how he’s got it set up we might just be able to trace where the feed’s going… And if we can do that.” 

“We can get him.” Steve finished, face grim.  
…………………………………………………………………………………  
David tapped a finger on his desk as he watched the interplay in the warehouse. The hunt was on. This was new to him. He had always kept his work private, personal. But he wanted more, wanted to bask in the emotions of those touched by his work. So he had left them a trail to follow. He had anticipated their every move.

This experiment was invigorating. He closed his eyes and leant back, playing his plan over in his mind. He wanted McGarrett, he was sure of that now, but it had to happen in just the right way. Timing was everything. It was a delicate balancing act. 

Williams was broken, but he was yet to earn his death. He would have to look him in the eye and beg to die before David would allow it. He was almost at that point. Almost. David could feel it coming. And then David would fell him moments before McGarrett’s carefully engineered arrival. He would allow the Commander to witness those dying gasps, to feel the blood running through his fingers, to share in the intensity of David’s triumph and marvel at his absolute control. He would observe McGarrett’s precious reactions first-hand. He would inhale the scent of his anger, his grief, his fear.

Then McGarrett would become his.

The man had fascinated him from early on and he had wavered between taking him and taking Williams for some time. Then one fateful day he had seen Williams smile broadly, eyes twinkling in the sun. The man was beautiful and he had to have him. 

But he knew McGarrett would be his next trophy. His new plaything. Mentally stronger than Williams, he suspected. Breaking him would be that bit sweeter. 

There was, of course, every chance McGarrett would try to take him out with a carefully concealed weapon, or his bare hands. It was unlikely the man could out-manoeuver David when he struck, but not impossible. It added another new dimension- risk. He had never taken risks before. It was exhilarating. Those moments between McGarrett's entry and his initial restraint would be truly intense. He exhaled slowly, almost shivering in anticipation. The thought aroused him. He stood up, mind suddenly clouded by the primal needs of the animal inside. That was easily dealt with. Time to visit his guest.


	6. Contact

Five-0 and a team from Crime Lab worked together, processing the scene, searching for monitoring devices, taking what could be taken from the computer. The warehouse was taken apart a piece at a time.

Abrahams’ car yielded Danny’s clothes- neatly folded- plus his gun and his wallet. With them were a dart gun, a forensic suit and latex gloves- clues as to how he had got Danny to begin with, but nothing to help get him back.

Then they started to recover the cameras. Covert devices, of the type used by specialist police surveillance units across much of the developed world. Screw-head sized and easily disguised in any number of objects. There were many in the warehouse and office. Abrahams had a choice of many angles to watch them from and could no doubt hear every word they said. Suddenly conscious of that, conversation had dropped to a minimum.

Steve cast his eyes across the crime scene, ensuring everything was progressing appropriately. The files showing Danny’s plight had been copied. Duke had volunteered to review them in detail and report back. Steve hated to hand over the task but he knew Lou was right- watching them without knowing Danny was safe would finish him. Duke was tough, he was good and he was trusted. He was perfect for the job. 

Kono and Charlie Fong were working on Abrahams' computer. Steve saw Fong point something out to Kono. He narrowed his eyes, watching as she nodded, then stood and turned, searching him out. She made eye contact with him and pointed to the door. He moved towards her rapidly her and the two of them walked out into the parking lot. 

“Talk to me, Kono. I need some good news.” 

“Okay, for all the surveillance system is pretty advanced, the transmission set up is basic. The feed from the cameras is being collated on that one computer and transmitted to a single IP address. That IP address isn’t right, some effort’s been put into re-routing…”

Steve held up his hand. “Kono, stop. Have you got him or not?”

“Not. But Charlie says we should have the location of the computer he was viewing us from within the hour.”

“Is Abrahams gonna know that?”

Kono shrugged. “We’ve deactivated the feed from the computer. He shouldn't be able to access images from here anymore. But I can’t shake the feeling he’s still watching, that he knows exactly what we’ve been doing.”

Steve nodded tensely. “OK. Keep me posted. I’ll update HPD. They’re still on the perimeter here and I want them to stick with us. I want everyone ready to mobilise as soon as we have that location.”

Kono nodded. She turned and jogged back into the building.  
………………………………………………………………………………….  
By the time Crazy Bastard, as Danny had eventually decided to christen the man, had finished his latest bout of perverted bloodlust, Danny was in a weird kind of agony, so far gone he was almost numb. He knew he had passed out eventually, thank God. He seemed to remember a booted foot swinging towards his face. That had probably done it.

Now he was awake again. At least he thought he was. He wasn’t even sure what position he was in. Hanging by his wrists, if he had to guess. A bewildering haze had settled around him. He was done, he supposed, finally at the limit of what he could endure. 

He was certainly done with provoking the man, done with resisting. Done with feeling pain, humiliation, fear. Done with agonizing over the prospect of never seeing the ones he loved again. He knew Steve was going to come for him but he’d come to realise and accept it was going to be too late to save him. 

Crazy Bastard was back in the room now, he could feel him. Danny raised his head a touch as the man walked up to him, now meeting his gaze as best he could, keeping his own impassive. 

That empty smile materialised in front of him. “Tell me what you want. Do you want this to end? Are you ready to kneel before me on your own volition? Are you ready to die?” a voice whispered.

Danny almost jumped when the man spoke. Crazy Bastard hadn’t uttered a word to him from the moment he had woken up in this room, wherever the hell it was, however many eons ago it had been. Now he was finally speaking, it was to offer him an opportunity to end this hell. Ending this hell sounded good.

Danny thought it over for a moment, knowing what he needed to say, knowing the effect his answer would have on Grace, on Steve, on everyone who loved him if they heard it. But enough was enough. He hoped they knew him well enough to understand what he had to do. He moved his lips, taking a few aborted attempts to form the word before he finally succeeded, voice painfully weak. “Yes.”

“Good. You impress me. The right time for you to die is almost upon us. Then you will kneel before me and ask me to end your suffering. Are you ready to do that?” 

‘Yes. Please, yes.’ 

Crazy Bastard smiled that horrible empty smile.  
……………………………………………………………..  
Steve strode back towards the warehouse, grim-faced, trying not to allow himself to think, trying to block those images of Danny out of his mind. As he put his hand out to open the door his phone rang. He stopped in his tracks, almost grateful for an excuse to put off re-entering that building. 

“McGarrett.” He growled. 

“Commander McGarrett, good to speak, finally.” The voice, deep and male, was unfamiliar.

Steve frowned. “Who’s speaking?”

“Let me put it this way. I’m watching you right now, I’m watching all of your colleagues. You will do exactly as I say or I’ll kill your friend. ”

Steve’s jaw dropped for an instant and he swung round, looking wildly, before he regained his composure. His heart was pounding. “Abrahams! What do…”

Abrahams cut him dead, voice booming. “Shut up and listen. You’re finally getting warmer. But it’s happening too slowly. I’m bored, I’m ready for the next phase and I’m anxious to meet you, Commander.”

“Listen to me. You listen to me. You need to stop. You understand? You need to leave him alone. Tell me what you want. Whatever it is, I’ll get it for you, I’ll get it done. Just stop hurting him. You hear me?” he realised his voice was trembling with emotion.

Abrahams laughed dryly. “Commander, I’m already getting exactly what I want. Now I know Kalakaua and Fong will have my location shortly- in 45 minutes if I’m correct. I know you and all your little drones will come galloping to the rescue. But do it like that and you’ll be too late. That’s not how I want it. I’m in control, do you understand?”

“Yes, yes. Got it.”

“Good man. I’m more than happy for your army to swarm in when they get my location. I’ll even give myself up without a fight. But if you want to see Detective Williams alive I want some quality time alone with you first. You interest me and we need to talk.”

“I understand. But I need to know if Detective Williams is…..I need to know he’s alive.”

“He’s alive. I’m going to send you the grid reference of my location. There’s a map in the glove box of my car. Old fashioned, I know, but I like maps. I want you to get in my car right now, establish my location, then make your way here alone. Your back-up will be here soon enough but you come alone first. Tell no one where you are going. I’ll be monitoring you constantly- I can see and hear you and your team in the car, the warehouse, your headquarters, your homes. Rest assured the monitoring system detected by your team was not the only one I installed.

When you arrive here you need to stand outside the property door and turn around slowly in front of the camera. Show me you’re unarmed. I’ll unlock the door remotely when I’m satisfied. Be warned I have a detector installed which will tell me if you have any concealed weapons. Then I want you to enter and come and find me. I'll be with Detective Williams. If you deviate from my instructions, I’ll shoot him. Understood?”

Steve nodded. “I understand. But I need proof he’s alive if you want me to take that kind of risk.”

“No you don’t. I know you, Commander, and I’ve seen what he means to you. You’ll come for him.”

Steve dipped his head and put his hand over his eyes. He couldn’t disagree. “And if I do what you say will you give me your word you won’t touch him again, you won’t hurt him?”

That mirthless laugh was back again. “I give you my word I won’t do anything he doesn’t want me to. How’s that? Now do we have an agreement?”

“Yeah. Yes, OK.”

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Commander.”

The line went dead. His phone beeped almost immediately- the promised grid reference had been sent.

Steve didn’t hesitate. He climbed into Abrahams’ car and found his destination on the map in seconds. He started the car and drove off without a backward glance.


	7. Time

Danny found himself being gently lowered to the floor from his suspended position. His legs were unwilling to support him when his feet reached the ground and he slumped down, somehow managing to keep silent in spite of the unexpected pain caused by the strain on his arms and shoulders being released. He lay on his side, trying to get his breath, trembling arms stretched out in front of him, barely registering as the manacles were removed from his hands. 

Crazy Bastard was standing over him, watching hungrily. “Kneel. Prove to me you’re ready and I’ll end this.”

Danny struggled weakly to get his legs under himself, small cries of pain punctuating his unsuccessful efforts. “Trying…..sorry” he gasped.

Crazy Bastard smirked. He knelt, stroking Danny’s jaw. He bent over, bringing his mouth close to Danny’s ear. “Try harder or I’ll make you scream again.” He whispered. “It’s nearly time.” He stood and walked away, leaving Danny gasping on the cold tile floor.

Danny pictured Grace’s face. He found himself offering up a silent prayer in spite of himself, to whoever the hell might be listening.  
……………………………………………..  
“Yes! Kono!” 

Fong’s exclamation drew not just Kono but Chin and Lou over to the computer. They had him. The IP address had been tracked back to a house in the jungle about an hour’s drive from the warehouse.

Live satellite feed was open on Fong’s laptop. It showed a house with a large connected outbuilding. The structure was located in a wide clearing in the jungle with a single access track winding up the mountainside towards it. 

An approach strategy was obvious to them all immediately, no discussion required. Abrahams would presumably have CCTV covering the track and property, but a forward team of 5-0 and SWAT should be able to approach discretely through the jungle undetected. They could hit hard and fast, get the bastard before he realised they’d arrived.

Chin had already dialled Steve’s phone. He frowned. “No answer. Where is he, anyway?”

“He was going to speak to HPD outside.” said Kono. “That was a while ago though.” 

“Er, guys. Look at this.” Fong was still watching the satellite feed. A car was now approaching the house.

“Tell me that’s not the car that was parked outside here.” said Lou.

Kono turned and ran from the office, appearing again seconds later. “It’s gone!”

Chin dialled the HPD officer on duty outside, his phone on loudspeaker. “Hey. Did you see where Commander McGarrett went?”

“Yeah, he drove off in Abrahams’ car about 40 minutes ago.”

Chin, Lou and Kono exchanged glances. What the hell had they missed?! “Did he say where he was going?”

“No. I figured it was OK. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah.” Chin hung up. “Abrahams must have contacted him. This is bad. Right, everybody mobilise. We need to move, now!”  
………………………………………………………………………………….  
David Abrahams stood in front of his laptop, watching, waiting. He had, as ever, reduced his trophy to a pathetic echo of the persona he had taken, feeding on the fear created in the process. The man would probably live if he stopped now- the deconstruction process was brutal but measured. But the will to live was gone. The blond man was done. 

Now timing was everything. His CCTV feed showed his car approaching and stopping a short distance from the building. McGarrett had arrived. He picked up his laptop, carrying it into his workroom so he could monitor McGarrett and judge the time of William’s demise to the second. 

Looking at his prisoner, David felt something resembling pride. The blond man had moved during his brief absence, somehow succeeding in raising himself to his knees, although he was bent over double, his face resting on his hands. His obedience was almost...touching. 

David closed his eyes, anticipating the sensation of his knife slicing the tender flesh on his trophy’s throat, of the life blood running through his fingers. He pictured McGarrett bursting in, just a moment too late. Pictured his face. He was about to know the elusive scent of those combined emotions. 

And his exit strategy was in place. Once he had taken McGarrett down with his dart gun, he would drag him to his helicopter, concealed in the outbuilding. He’d kept that detail quiet. He was certain they had no knowledge of that. He’d be gone and McGarrett would be his.

David walked to his work table and ran his eyes over his tools. He selected a long, thin knife. He looked at it, reflecting on the lives it had taken, the sets of eyes that had gazed at it in fear, in resignation, in relief. He glanced at his laptop, saw McGarrett obediently turning around in front of his door, arms raised. David's fingers ran across the controls of his laptop with a practiced expertise, accessing his security systems and setting the front door to open in 10 seconds.

David knelt down in front of Danny, placed his hand on the man’s bowed head and pushed it back to reveal his throat. He gazed into the glazed blue eyes then raised his knife theatrically, looking up to watch the way the light glinted off the blade. 

It was time.


	8. Intensity

CHAPTER 8- INTENSITY

The door clicked. Abrahams had unlocked it as promised.

Steve hesitated for a mere second before pushing it in and moving cautiously into the house. He was unarmed but he was ready and able to take this guy out unassisted. No way, no WAY was he getting away. And something about the man's pledge not to do anything Danny didn't want made his blood run cold. If Danny was dead…

He stopped inside the door. There was silence within. The room, an open-plan kitchen/livingroom affair, was sparsely furnished but meticulously neat. He cast his eyes around, counting the doors leading off the main area. Five. He turned left. He would take them clockwise, methodically.

Then something snapped in his mind. Abrahams knew he was here. Caution was pointless. "Abrahams!" he roared. "I'm here. Where are you?" He stormed through the house, kicking open doors as he went, adrenaline and aggression rising to uncontrollable levels.

He drew breath as he saw a staircase behind the splintered remains of the last door. A basement. Without hesitation, he thundered down the wooden stairs to the level below. And there it was. A reinforced door. He knew, he just _knew_ , this was it. This was Danny's prison.

Heart pounding, eyes wild, he grabbed the handle of the door. It wasn't locked. He pulled the door open. He gasped, absorbing the horrific scene inside in a fraction of a second.

Danny, beaten and sliced from head to foot, kneeling in his own blood, hunched over and almost _penitent_ in front of the evil, hated figure of David Abrahams. Abrahams was also on his knees but his body was upright. He looked right at Steve, grinning wolfishly. He had one hand on Danny's head, and the other, bearing a razor-sharp blade, raised in the air. It was painfully clear why Abrahams had wanted Steve to come. He wanted him to witness Danny's execution. Steve saw the dart gun on the bastard's hip and knew instantly what was planned for him too.

Time seemed to warp, everything happening in slow motion.

Steve yelled out unintelligibly, _desperate,_ and launched himself, already knowing without a doubt he was going to be too late. The room was a touch too long, he was a touch too far away. It had all be carefully, ruthlessly, calculated down to the last detail. Danny was going to die.

David smiled at Steve, knowing his plan had worked, his timing was perfect. One slice of his knife, a quick draw of his weapon and the challenging part was done. He watched greedily, imprinting everything on his perfect memory. Steve's horrified expression. The sweet scent of his fear and his fury that permeated the air. The slight tremble beneath his hand from the man who was about to die.

He brought the knife down sharply in a smooth arc towards the pale throat.

Without warning, the head beneath his hand rose sharply. David looked down in shock as Danny surged up, the knife merely glancing off his collar bone instead of slicing his jugular. David felt a solid punch low in his chest as Danny's fist struck. Searing pain radiated from the point of impact up and under his ribs and David's jaw dropped as he realised he could see the end of the handle of his own scalpel protruding from his chest.

Danny fell back to the floor, dragging himself backwards away from the man and his knife until his back hit a wall. He sagged against it, gasping for breath.

In the moments it took David to die, he looked across the room into Danny's wide eyes in utter astonishment. He had been wrong. The blond man was not broken. He had made the first mistake of his life. He had underestimated a worthy foe. He had foolishly handed him an opportunity to strike back. The realisation made him gasp, made his damaged heart pump faster, his adrenaline spike. He smiled at the intense array of sensations, feeling more alive than he could remember.

Steve, brain trying to catch up, simply threw himself between Danny's retreating form and the swaying murderer. He swung a roundhouse kick that sent the knife clattering out of David's hand and away across the floor, then froze, staring at David, poised to strike again, breathing hard.

Still kneeling, David now opened and shut his mouth mutely as blood spurted rhythmically from his chest. With a gurgle, he went down, sliding almost gracefully on to his side. He lay there twitching on the blood-soaked floor, his own blood continuing to flow for long seconds until his heart finally stopped and he lay still.

David was dead.

The spell broke, real time kicking in again.

"Danny!" Steve spun round, running to his fallen friend who lay slumped against the cold tile wall. Danny's eyes were wild, focused solely on Abrahams. He was panting raggedly, shaking from head to foot. Steve dropped to his knees beside him. 'Jesus, Danny! You okay?'

He cringed as he said it because he knew the answer. He was unsure where to touch his partner, his body looked so damaged. He slid a gentle hand around the nape of his neck, trying to catch his eye. "You're all right buddy, I've got you. Can you hear me?" Steve realised his voice was trembling as much as his hands.

Danny looked right through Steve, eyes still fixed on Abrahams' body. "Dead, right?" he croaked.

"Yeah Danno." Steve said soothingly, "He's dead. You're safe, you got him."

Danny's eyes suddenly lost their focus, his breaths coming as pained gasps. He sagged forwards, away from the wall and towards Steve.

Stomach twisting in fear, Steve eased Danny's shoulders down into his lap, supporting his head on one arm. "Hey, hey, look at me Danny. Shit. SHIT."

He pulled out his phone, dialling Chin. "Chin, do you know where I am?" he barked tersely.

 _"Yeah. What's the situation?"_ Chin's voice was tense.

"Abrahams is down, Danny's alive but we need EMTs NOW. Just get them here."

_"Understood. We managed to get a chopper- we're 5 minutes out. HPD are 30 minutes out. EMTs are closer. They have a unit that can be there in 10 if it's safe. I'll let them know it is."_

"Thanks, Chin." He hung up, returning his attention to his partner.

"Danny, you with me buddy?" his voice was shaking. He cupped Danny's cheek gently. Danny's eyes had closed and his face was deathly pale behind the bruises and dried blood in the glaring artificial light. He didn't respond. For a few long moments, his harsh, labored breathing was the only sound in the room.

Steve shook himself because he knew better than this. He _knew_ how to deal with people who had been horribly injured. He had done it a hundred times before. Just because it was his best friend, this should be no different. He drew a deep breath, then, murmuring words of reassurance, started to run his free hand over his friend in an attempt to assess his multiple injuries.

But it was too much. There didn't seem to be a single part of Danny's body that that _bastard_ hadn't sliced, or burned, or beaten, or broken. Steve's breath hitched in his throat and he looked up at the ceiling with rapidly filling eyes. He looked around the room, seeing the chains, the blood-splattered walls, the table of hideous tools, imagining the _terror_ Danny had to have been feeling for five whole days.

Nausea rose. He looked down at his friend's face and berated himself for not finding him sooner. And for not doing what he _should_ be doing right _now._

The logical part of his brain kicked in. EMTs were minutes away. Danny was breathing. His pulse was fast but acceptable. Other than the fresh slice across his collar bone, which was oozing steadily, there were no obvious bleeders. So what he was doing was okay. Holding Danny and just _being_ there with him, comforting him, was an acceptable course of action as long as his condition wasn't deteriorating.

He made himself relax, let himself tighten his hold on Danny just a fraction, didn't stop himself stroking the swollen cheek with feather-light touches. "You're okay, Danno, everything's okay now. It's over. You're going home, buddy," he whispered, his voice tight.

Danny seemed to come back to himself a little at his words, his touch. He turned his head a fraction and cracked open dazed blue eyes. He managed to focus on Steve, bringing a relieved grin to his partner's face.

"Hey you. You have no idea how good it is to see you, Danno."

Danny's breathing began to steady. "Knew you'd come." He whispered softly.

"Sorry it took a while. How you doing?" Steve replied softly.

Danny shook his head, mouth twitching with emotion, then looked back up at Steve and giggled quietly, an edge of hysteria to the sound. "H-he untied me… left me in…. room full of...weapons," he rasped breathlessly.

Steve eyed him with concern, then snorted theatrically, glancing over at the body. "Big mistake! You got him good, buddy. I can't quite believe you just managed that." He shook his head in genuine wonder, unable to grasp where Danny had found the reserves of strength to kill Abrahams. "Guess Kono's got some competition for Five-0's biggest bad-ass, right? But you're OK, now, it's over, yeah?

"Yeah." Danny sounded unconvinced. "Gracie OK?"

"She's safe. She will be OK, buddy, once she sees you and we've got you patched up."

Danny looked up at him blearily. 'You OK?'

Steve forced a smile, but a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob came out unbidden. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm good now. It's been….Well, we missed you. _I_ missed you. There's things I've never told you. That I should have said. I thought I'd never…" He turned his head away, unable to go on, unable to get the words past the lump in his throat.

Danny gripped his arm weakly. "S'okay…. Later, w-with beer."

Steve huffed out a laugh and nodded, not trusting his voice. He shifted his hand to run his fingers over what was left of Danny's hair. "Suits you like that, you know," he said with a wry smile, hoping to get a rise out of his partner.

Danny didn't disappoint. He snorted in disgust, managing to muster something resembling a glare. "Gonna grow it back."

"You mean you'll _try_ and grow it back." Steve teased gently.

"I'll try and….You're an animal. I hate you." Danny replied with an impressive amount of venom, making Steve grin like a fool.

"No you don't, you love me."

Danny snorted, then smiled up at him, genuine and affectionate. "Maybe a bit."

Steve smiled back. He felt tears threatening again and purposefully turned his mind to the practical. He leant back a touch and pulled his T-shirt off over his head, laying it over Danny's prone body. "No need for Kono to see that much of you. She'd never look at Adam again, eh partner?"

Danny smiled again, then closed his eyes and moaned in pain making Steve's heart twist in his chest.

The sound of approaching rotor blades made them both look up.

"Sounds like our lift, Danno. You'll be on the happy drugs before you know it," said Steve with a lop-sided grin that belied the fear and concern in his eyes.

Danny nodded mutely, mouth suddenly twitching again, his hold on his emotions blatantly spiralling now the end was in sight. For all their light-hearted banter appeared to have survived intact, his multiple injuries and his hellish ordeal had taken a toll on him that had yet to be measured.

Steve grabbed Danny's hand then, squeezing gently. He looked him square in the eye. "I'm staying with you every step of the way, okay? This was bad. I _know_ this was bad. You're allowed to feel the way you do, buddy. You're not alone, I promise. We'll get through this together."

Danny stared back at him, his bruised face painfully vulnerable but openly trusting. Steve found he was unable to take his eyes from Danny's. They smiled weakly at each other, a silent acknowledgement of what had happened, what was still to some, of partnership and brotherhood.

It was finally starting to sink in- Steve had Danny back. He felt warm and alive. Not remotely in one piece, but alive. Fixable. And Steve would make sure he was fixed, if it was the last thing he did.

For the first time in five days, Steve remembered how to breathe.

* * *

 


	9. A good, old fashioned epilogue

Danny sat alone in his house in front of the TV, not really watching whatever the hell was on. His hair had grown longer again, more the way he liked it. His mind and body were liberally peppered with scars.

He was due to start back at work in a week, light duties only to begin with. He was excited but undeniably nervous. He still had issues he was working through. He fucking hated being in rooms with no windows and locked doors, his pre-existing claustrophobia now exponentially magnified. He wouldn’t be interrogating anyone anytime soon, that was for sure. His personal space had expanded significantly, but he had worked to a point where he could pretty much suppress the shudders he felt when anyone outside of a small circle of trusted friends and family took a step too close to him. The thought of having sex made him nauseous. He seriously hoped that would pass in time. Not a skill he needed for work, thank God. 

But he knew he needed to move on, to challenge himself, to re-join his team and start catching bad guys again. It was what he was good at and if he lost that, David had still won in a way.

A soft knock at his front door interrupted his internal monologue. Before he could stand it was pushed open. “Hey Danny, just me!” It was Steve.

Danny lifted his head, smiling warmly when his friend came into view, beers in hand.

Steve had been fucking fantastic. Just like he’d promised, he’d been with Danny every step of the way, somehow managing to achieve it without being suffocating. The week he’d spent in hospital, the time after when he’d been confined to his bed at home- he’d been there, taking time off work to help him out. 

He’d been there through the counselling, the physical therapy, the HIV tests, the sleepless nights. The times he had to plaster on a smile for Grace, to make sure things were all right for her at least. She shouldn’t have to worry about him. Through it all, Steve had been at his side the instant he needed him, often before he even realised he did. 

When he’d told Danny he’d watched the recordings Abrahams had made of the highlights of his time in captivity, Danny had screamed at him, furious. Then they had cried together. The thought of Steve seeing what had happened to him in glorious technicolor still made him cringe, but he got it now. It had helped Steve really understand. Almost like they had gone through it together.

Whatever he needed, Steve just knew. He’d been strong and silent, he’d listened, he’d cracked crappy jokes and told stupid stories. He’d given him space. He’d held him when he broke down. He’d been his punchbag. He’d fielded visitors when Danny just wasn’t up to facing other human beings. He reminded him he was strong too- not only had he survived, but at the end of the day he had saved Steve from Abrahams, not vice versa. The dartgun that had been in the man's waistband was evidence enough of that. And he’d made sure Grace was there at every available opportunity- between them they had conspired to force him to remember how to have fun, how to live.

And Danny was just so fucking grateful he had no idea how to even begin thanking him. His thoughts were apparently written across his face and Steve knelt down in front of him, placed a hand on his knee and fixed him with earnest eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me, buddy. You’re my best friend. Best one I’ve ever had. I love you. And I know you’d do the same for me.”

Danny blinked a few times, suddenly overcome and on the verge of tears.

Steve patted his knee, stood up, then flopped down beside him on the couch. “C’mon, let’s drink beer. There’s a movie on I want to watch. You’re gonna love it.” He passed Danny a beer then slung an arm over his shoulders, balancing his own bottle between his knees as he reached for the remote, plucking it from Danny’s hand.

Danny found himself rolling his eyes, breakdown averted. Trust superSEAL to successfully balance out his heartfelt declarations with a display of outlandish control freakery. He leaned back, resigned, pillowing his head on Steve’s big shoulder and waiting for whatever hellish film had been selected to start. An image of what the two of them would look like to an outsider came to him and made him smile. Their boundaries had become weirdly blurred over the years but he so didn’t give a shit.

He was alive. He had Grace. He had good friends. And he had Steve. 

All things considered, his life was pretty fucking fantastic.


End file.
